


don't open the bottle with that half of your brain.

by alright_alright



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dialogue Heavy, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Humor, Kind of confessions, Kind of fluffy, Oblivious, Party, always bantering, at least, attempt at it, basically i like cars but that's not really what this is about, but - Freeform, crown victoria, i guess, i'm sorry guys i know it's not halloween anymore, in drag, subarus, swearing as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alright_alright/pseuds/alright_alright
Summary: Tweek's got a junky Crown Victoria and Craig ends up in a dress. Happy belated Halloween, guys.





	don't open the bottle with that half of your brain.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guyssss, thanks for reading this. i don't know how to describe it but it's kind of funny. i'm just curious to see what you all think! i totally encourage critiques, too, so seriously, if you hate something about it, you won't hurt my feelings by telling me. i really respect that. happy halloween, sorry this is late and please let me know what parts were sucky or worked out okay. <3 also, if you want me to write something specific, you can give me a prompt below and i'll have a go. :3

Craig hasn’t said anything yet, but he probably should. 

Tweek’s been sitting in his car for about an hour. Craig knows this because he’s washed last night’s dishes, eaten breakfast, read the funnies and put away this morning’s food. This takes about an hour to do every Saturday morning. And that hunk of rust still hasn’t moved. It’s more than infuriating, to be perfectly honest. Tweek won’t admit the damn car has issues. It needs a new transmission; you can’t even get it up to fifth gear anymore. It’s got so much body rust that Craig can poke a pencil straight through the door and find it sitting innocently on the other side. The doors only lock one by one from the inside, so Tweek  _ never _ unlocks the back doors. He’s afraid someone will steal the car. Yeah. Okay, buddy,  _ sure _ . If they wanted to steal it, they could just stick their hand through all the rust. The air conditioning hasn’t worked since the 90s. To roll the windows down, you have to open the door and wiggle each window from both sides. There’s a trick that only _Tweek_ knows about starting it. It has to do with flicking his fingers and praying. 

Basically, there’s a lot of pleading and bargaining with God to get “Victor” the Crown Victoria to start. 

Craig thinks Tweek’s being very irrational right now, holding onto that rat trap of a car, but Craig still feels something close to pity for the guy. Tweek has a lot of faith. Craig admires that kind of stupidity. He heads out of the house. When he gets to the car, Tweek’s resting his head pathetically on the steering wheel. Craig knocks on the window. Tweek jumps a little and glares at Craig.

“I know what you’re going to say, man!” He shouts and Craig hears it muffled. “You don’t need to say it.”

“Unlock the door?”

“No.” Tweek shakes his head and tries again, futilely, to start up the damn thing. Craig rolls his eyes and in the process of doing so, spots a stick resting in the grass. He picks it up and leans down to find a patch of rust in Victor’s door. He pushes the stick in the driver’s side and when he finishes, he finds Tweek looking at him with the worst attempt at a death glare he’s seen. Craig shrugs.

“Tweek, it’s time to let it go. It’s had a nice life. It will go to car heaven.”

“Craig! Car h-heaven isn’t real! They’ll send  _ babies _ to outer space before th-they’ll ever find car heaven!” 

“What? What did you say? I can’t hear you. Can’t you unlock the door?” Tweek grits his teeth and pushes open Victor’s door. He stumbles out. The stick that Craig poked through the door flings on the ground. Tweek picks it up, angrily and gets right up in Craig’s face. 

“I  _ said _ car heaven doesn’t exist, don’t lie to me!” He throws the stick at Craig’s feet with a dramatic flourish. Craig blinks. 

“I know this was your first car, but look at it! It’s just a pile of rust.”

“No, it’s, it’s, it’s  _ fucking fabulous _ .”

“Buddy.” Craig says, sympathetically.

“Don’t call me buddy right now, dude! I want my car back!”

“I’ll go with you to pick out a new car.”

“I don’t want a new car, I want Victor!”

“Christ, Tweek, you goddamn five year old.”

“Argh!”

“Okay,  _ okay _ , man. We can find a newer Victoria. They still make these things, right?” Craig kicks at the tire and Tweek growls.

“For the police! It’s not the same, dude! I’ve been through a lot with this car.”

“You’re too sentimental.”

“I won’t just  _ junk _ him! He still has the best stereo around!” True, though it is the only good thing about the car.

“Tweek, you can’t even start it up! It’s just a glorified cassette player at this point.”

“Gah, fuck you, man!”

“Okay.” 

“It’s just,” Tweek sighs and throws his hands to his side. “I have a lot of fond memories in this car.”

“You’re looking at this with rose-tinted lenses. Don’t you even remember  _ how _ you got the car? It’s was a payment for a drug deal. For your  _ parents _ . Your  _ parents _ hit and ran over your childhood with this damn car!”

“Craig,  _ okay _ , you know what?”

“What, Tweek? What?”

“You’re being really annoying.”

“I’m annoying?  _ I’m  _ annoying?”

“Yeah, you fucking parrot, you’re annoying!” Craig tugs on Tweek’s shirt and pulls him in the garage. He sits him on the steps. He gets out the house phone and hands it to Tweek. 

“You’re calling the junkyard.” Tweek makes a face.

“I’m  _ not _ junking Victor.”

“Fine, then, we’re going to the used car place and Victor can be the first of us buried on this property.” Tweek hisses a little. Drama baby. 

“ _ Ngh _ , what, what used car place?” He resolves. 

“Oh, come  _ on _ , just how many  _ are _ there around here? You know the dealership I’m talking about.” Tweek gasps and looks at Craig with a horrified expression.

“Not the one by the park, man! I’m not going there. Nope, no, no way, that salesman is frightening!”

“Frightening? What are you, from the 1880s? He’s just a little off.” 

“A little! A  _ little _ ! Dude, he keeps bats in his house!  _ Bats!  _ He’s a goddamn vampire! I’ll bet  _ he’s _ from the 1880s!”

“That’s just a rumor. We’re going there.” Craig unlocks his own car. Tweek glares. Craig rolls his eyes. 

“I’m not getting in the Subaru!”

“Yes, you are,” Tweek doesn’t move. Craig frowns. “Look,” He squeezes his eyes shut. “If you do this, I,” He grits his teeth, acting pained. “I promise I’ll wear the damn Halloween costume.” Tweek sucks in on his cheek, looking a little hopeful.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Craig frowns, cold faced and gravely says: “I’m serious.”

“We’ll even go out? To Token’s? You won’t just wear it around the house?”

“If you make me.”

“R-really?”

“Yes, goddammit!” 

“And I can play what I want in the car?” He says after too fucking long. 

“Yeah.”

“Even the Talking Heads?”

“You can play your  _ ‘music’ _ .” Craig air quotes sarcastically. Tweek gets up hestitantly. 

“O-okay, man. I’ll, I’ll do it. But, you’re  _ really _ gonna wear the costume?” Tweek asks, hand on the passenger’s side.

“I guess.” Craig gets in the Subaru and Tweek pulls out his iPod. 

“You’ll make a good Marilyn,” Tweek says, smiling to himself. “You got the cheekbones for it.”

“You’re the fucking worst.” Craig starts the car and backs out the driveway. He’s not the best of drivers but he’s not terrible and he hasn’t hit anything yet. So that’s a win. Probably the only win of his life currently. But whatever. 

* * *

 

“I still don’t understand why you  _ wanted  _ me to wear this.”

“Because, it’s Halloween, _duh_.”

“This isn’t scary at all.”

“I’m tired of being Bonnie and Clyde, man. It’s really confusing whenever we run into Clyde, y’know? Plus, it’s your turn to drag it up.”

“And you just  _ had _ to pick Marilyn?”

“I read an article about, a-about Joe and Marilyn. It was r-really fucking sad.” Tweek says, glumly.

“Wait, that’s your _whole_ reason? Let me understand you, Tweek...” Tweek groans and flops facedown on the floor. Craig always makes the worst expression, with his eyes slightly closed and one hand on his hip, when he thinks Tweek’s said something nearly incomprehensible. 

“Oh my G-God, Craig, not  _ this _ .”

“No, no, no, let me say something here.  _ Because _ you thought an article was sad, I have to dress up like the sex symbol of the fifties? Did I understand you right?”

“It’s not the  _ whole  _ reason. I wanna be the dude this year, I dunno.”

“We could both be guys!” Tweek makes a sour face.

“No way, man, I played Bonnie for three years straight. Before that, I was Dorothy and before  _ that _ , I was Alice! You totally owe me!” Craig grumbles in response.

“I  _ still  _ don’t get it.”

“Well, that’s fine, you don’t have to get it. You just have to strut it like I do every fucking 31st of October,” Craig scoffs. Tweek jumps up, with a sudden burst of energy. “I don’t even get  _ why  _ I had to be the girl all these years!”

“Because you lost that bet in the tenth grade, remember? Token bet you wouldn’t call an adult hotline and have a conversation for at least two minutes, you said ‘Oh, yeah, watch me!’ and he said ‘Oh, I will!’ and you didn’t do anything. You lost the bet, you had to be Alice.”

“I tried to talk! They, they just made me really nervous. They have so much information, man! They’re really good at getting stuff out of you.”

“Mhmm.”

“But that doesn’t explain the, the  _ other _ years!”

“Alice was such a hit. Everyone gave you the  _ best _ candy.” Craig remembers, dreamily. 

“Oh. Y-yeah, they,  _ ngh _ , really did, didn’t they?” Tweek scratches at the back of his head. Craig looks at the Marilyn Monroe outfit, sensing something ominous. “Well, this year should really surprise everyone.” Tweek tosses a blonde wig at Craig. 

“Tweek, you’re blonde and you’re shorter than me. You would’ve been way better at this.  _ I’m _ gonna look fucking weird.”

“Nah, you got the facial structure. Good cheekbones. Everything else falls in place. Plus, it would’ve been totally cliche if I was Marilyn!” 

“You really are the absolute worst.”

“Naw.” 

“Yeah.”

“Nah.”

* * *

Craig does look pretty weird, only because he’s uncomfortable. He can’t walk in heels and he’s not used to have a bust. But it’s funny as hell and Tweek is glad for that. He can just barely hold himself back from laughing. He’s afraid if he does laugh, Craig will refuse to leave the house. So he bites his tongue and tries to think of frustrating things, like empty cartons of orange juice left in the fridge when you think you have enough for the morning. Tweek really hates that. Craig’s still not strutting anything, though, and Tweek aims to fix that. Tweek swings his baseball bat around. Craig grimaces.

“What are you doing for the rest of your life,  _ ngh _ , dollface?” Tweek winks at Craig, amused. Craig gives him an inscrutable expression, under all his makeup. It’s an accurate makeup job. Tweek feels like patting himself on the back. Craig really does look like Marilyn, at least in the face. It’s too bad that the wig was so cheap, because all in all, he comes off looking a little like a prostitute. 

“Oh, fuck you, man.” 

“I,” Tweek thinks about it for a minute. “I mean, I  _ am _ Joe for the night. So, it, i-it wouldn’t be out of character. Like, at  _ all _ .” Craig glares at him. 

“Dude. Not funny.” 

“I th-thought it was an okay joke,” Tweek says, a little uncomfortably. The air is slightly awkward. “Are you,  _ ngh _ , ready?” Craig sighs and his shoulders slump in on him. The ballerina dress he’s wearing is really close to Marilyn’s. Tweek holds out his arm, attempting gentlemen etiquette. Craig shoves it away and Tweek laughs. They head out to the car. Tweek gets in the passenger’s side. “I don’t get why  _ I _ can’t drive.” He grumbles.

“You would be driving if you didn’t insist on waiting until a green Crown Victoria shows up.”

“And I’m going to fucking wait! If the new car lasts as long as Victor did, I’ll die in it.”

“What, an overdose at thirty?”

“Look in the mirror before you say these things, Craig.” Craig frowns, glances in the mirror and kind of wants to hit Tweek. Just a little, a swat on the shoulder would be enough. Almost enough. Craig doesn’t even recognize himself. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbles as they head out the driveway, towards Token’s. He’s honestly surprised he’s this calm about it all. 

“Th-thanks for doing this, man.” Tweek grins and Craig remembers why he’s doing this. That stupid face. 

“Mm.” Is all Craig musters up, but Tweek knows that’s just code for ‘you’re welcome’. Tweek plugs in his iPod and plays some old crap that Craig doesn’t care about. He asks, anyway: “What is this shit?” Tweek smiles a little. 

“Old crap that you don’t care about. But I do.” 

“You know me too well, buddy.”

“I think that, sometimes. That, y-you know, half my brain is devoted to you and maybe I should,  _ ngh _ , f-focus on something else.” Tweek says, offhandedly. Craig stumbles for a response.

“What’s the other half?”

“Huh? Oh, puppies, cows. Alien abductions, past life regressions. Pigs, too. Pigs are adorable. Ways to get out of illegal situations and/or coffins. Useful stuff.”

“So, I’m the useless information in your brain?” 

“Pretty much, I mean, yeah. Y-yeah.”

“Ass.” Craig mutters.

* * *

“---told you, Clyde. The avocado is a fruit. It has a seed, it is therefore a fruit.”

“Classifications aren’t so simple, Token! You can’t just say because I’m wearing this tonight,” Clyde points at his costume, a Peter Pan outfit.  “That I’m immature.”

“But you  _ are _ immature.”

“That’s not my point!” The door opens and Clyde grins. “Great, Tweek’s here. He’s a foodie, he’ll have my back.” Token shakes his head and gets up from the couch. “Unlike  _ some  _ tasteless douchebags .” Clyde mutters. Token kicks at Clyde’s leg. The door is fully open, but no one’s standing in it. 

“The hell…” Token frowns and Clyde appears suspicious. Perhaps he could’ve gone as Tweek this year with the feelings he’s having now. In the distance, Clyde and Token hear some shouting. They proceed to the porch, where they spot Tweek, in some Yankee’s uniform, yelling at Craig’s Subaru. 

“Yo, Tweek!” Clyde shouts, slightly obnoxiously. “Over here. The party’s over here!”

“I f-fucking know  _ that _ , man! Craig won’t come out of the car!” 

“Why not? How come you’re not Bonnie?”

“I’m d-done. Too much,  _ ngh _ , bedazzling. I confused myself.”

“I liked the sparkles.” Clyde mutters. Token pats Clyde’s back and takes away his beer. Clyde looks at him. 

“Five is too many.” Token tells him. Clyde shrugs. 

“Can you g-guys,  _ ngh _ , promise you won’t laugh at Craig?” There’s some aggressive pounding on the car door and muffled words. “ _ Wh-what _ ? I can’t say that either? You look so pretty, th-though!” There’s some more pounding and Token begins to register what’s happening, since Tweek’s not in drag this year. Clyde still looks a little dumbfounded and confused. “Just,  _ ngh _ , g-get out of the car and enjoy yourself, dammit!” Tweek walks up towards Token’s, all the while gesturing for Craig to join him. When the car door doesn’t open, Tweek flips it off. 

“Is Craig in drag?” Token asks, grinning. Tweek looks him up and down.

“What are _ you  _ supposed to be? Judge Judy?” Token shakes his head, a bit smugly.

“Ruth Bater Ginsberg.” 

“Christ, Token, why don’t you just p-plaster a sign on your face that says ‘hi, I was a political science major the election’s not my fault you can eat me’?”

“I tried it but the general consensus was negative.”

“Who’d you consult? _Clyde?_ ”

“Craig’s wearing a dress?” Clyde asks, eyes lighting up, just seeming to miss their conversation entirely due to the fuzzy feeling in his blood. He starts chuckling to himself and rubbing his hands together, giddily. “Ooh,  _ man,  _ I wanna picture of this!”

“You guys, you, you can’t make a deal, okay? He’s being a, a real,” Tweek leans in close to whisper, like it’s some secret: “Baby.” Token gets a closer look at Tweek’s costume. 

“Are you,” He nearly gasps, but it’s Token so he just looks a little shocked. “Is  _ Craig  _ Marilyn Monroe?”

“Yeah! And he looks,  _ ngh _ , great, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Clyde wiggles his eyebrows. “Like, plow town gr---” Tweek cuts him off, red faced and shrill. 

“Jesus Christ, Clyde! Th-that’s, that’s  _ stupid  _ shit! D-don’t be d-dumb, don’t say th-that around him. D-don’t make him feel awkward! Oh, god! He’d never f-forgive me!” 

“I bet he looks smoking.” 

“Goddammit, Clyde!” 

“What? He’s got nice cheeks.”

“Oh my god, th-that’s exactly what I told him!” Tweek says, briefly distracted.

“Oh, yeah, bro, you were lookin’?” Clyde raises an eyebrow, nearly slurring with amusement.

“W-well, where  _ else _ do you look when someone’s talking to you?” Tweek asks, confused.

“Oh, Tweek.” Token says, with the tone he uses when Tweek doesn’t get a joke. It’s full of pity. 

“He’ll eventually get sick of the car. Just, d-don’t say anything when he gets here.” Tweek glares at Clyde, who’s fumbling and looking like he’s got a nice little buzz going. Tweek rolls his eyes. “Clyde.”  

“ _Thass_ me!” He slurs, pointing to himself.

“Don’t tell Craig he’s, he’s---”

“He’s what.” Craig deadpans, from the car. Tweek jumps. 

“ _ Jesus Christ!  _ You fucking bat!” He shouts, just realizing that he’s forgotten his baseball bat in the car. Tweek looks a little embarrassed but he’s mostly feeling lazy. “C-Craig, could you---”

“I got it.” Craig walks out of the car, in the ballerina dress and Monroe makeup. He looks less uncomfortable with the bat in his hands and Tweek decides he’ll let him hold onto it. Just as long as he doesn’t wanna swat him with it. With the glow of the streetlights and the lights coming from Token’s, Craig really does look like Marilyn. It’s this moment that, through all the makeup and glamour, Tweek can’t believe Craig actually did this. He can’t believe how much Craig does for him. “What?” Craig deadpans Tweek, who flusters. 

“N-nothing, I wasn’t assessing you!” Tweek averts his eyes, grabs Craig’s arm and runs through the door, pulling Craig past Clyde’s wolf whistling and Token’s laughter. Yeah, Token, you should laugh as RBG. Okay. And Peter Pan hasn’t even hit puberty yet, so good luck with that ‘flirting’, Clyde. “Let’s,  _ ngh _ , let’s just, I need a fucking drink.”

“You never drink anything.” Craig says, suspiciously. Tweek looks at the punch, decides against it. You never know who could spike it, first of all, plus germs and finally, what if the alcohol’s been processed with cow blood? It happens and Tweek never wants to be a part of  _ that _ . Tweek rummages through Token’s cupboards. There are a number of people in the house, most of who couldn’t really give two shits about Craig’s outfit. There are some weirder costumes, so Craig’s starting to feel a little better. His shoulders are even relaxing somewhat. Tweek, on the other hand, is only looking more stressed. “Tweek.”

“Ngh _ , what _ ?” Tweek asks, exasperatedly. 

“Tweek, why are you upset?”

“I’m,  _ jesus _ ,” Tweek inhales. “I’m not upset. I just want a drink!”

“Dude. Okay.” Craig puts up his arms. 

“Okay, dude.” Tweek gestures Craig away with his hands. “Go mingle!” Craig makes a face and walks away. 

“I don’t mingle.” He mumbles and proceeds to sit on the couch. Clyde drunkenly stumbles along and eventually sits next to Craig. 

“Hey, sexy.” Clyde garbles.

“You’re so gross. Is that how you hit on women? You sound like a sleazebag.”

“Craig? Shit, man, you really look like a chick.” He laughs and walks away. 

“That guy is overconfident.” Craig says aloud to himself but Kenny overhears him. He whistles and Craig is really starting to get annoyed by that sound. It must be difficult to have to put up with this shit daily. 

“Craig, baby! Wow, lookin’ good. Where’s Tweek at?”

“I don’t know. I don’t always know.”

“You guys are practically married. I got something to show him.” 

“We’re not married.” Craig says slowly. Kenny scoffs. 

“Sure, and I’m fucking Miss Universe.” 

“What do you even have to show him?” Kenny looks at him like he’s surprised Craig would be interested. 

“I got these,” Kenny invades his space in the way the old woman on the bus who has a lot of pictures of her cats to show you does. To prove this point, Kenny pulls out his wallet and takes out some small, grainy photos. He hands them to Craig. “See, man? Tweek’ll go bananas.” Craig tries to decipher what the hell they are.

“What the hell are these? Did you take them with a flip phone camera? The quality sucks.”

“I went to on road trip. Passed through Area 51 last week, on my way back to this shithole.” 

“So?”

“What do you mean, ‘so’? Jeez, Craig, you’re an ass. I wonder why Tweek puts up with your shit sometimes,” Craig frowns, though it comes off as a pout with all the lipstick and rests his head in his hands, leaning down. Kenny watches him. “Wait, now I see it.” Kenny winks. Craig makes a disgusted face.

“Is every guy this pervy and I never noticed it?”

“You really don’t notice much, Craig.” Kenny says. 

“Hey now.”

“Tell me where your blonde ‘ _friend_ ’ is?” Kenny air quotes. 

“Drinking. Or, trying to.”

“Hey Kenny!” Some girl shouts and Kenny gets up, giving Craig a sly grin. 

“If you’ll excuse me.”

“By all means.” Kenny leaves and Craig feels bored. Usually, Tweek and him play some kind of game, make up conversations for the people far away that they can’t hear. Sometimes, they hang out on the porch and throw bits of pumpkins at Clyde, while he’s passed out under a bush. “Tweek!” Craig shouts from the couch, lazily. Screw it. Craig gets up, scans the room for Tweek. He finds him sitting in the back corner, alone, attempting to open a beer. 

“... _ st-stupid  _ fucker…” Tweek’s mumbling. 

“Want some help?” Craig offers, swinging the bat. Tweek sputters. Craig crouches next to him. “Why are you being so awkward? This was your idea and you said, ‘enjoy yourself, dammit.’.”

“I’m n-not, not awkward. I’m,” Tweek says, unconvincingly. “Having f-fun.”

“Yeah, sure, you are, shaking in the corner with bottle of beer that you can’t even open,” Craig grabs it and flips it around. “It’s not a twist off cap, man.” 

“I know that.” Tweek says, quietly. Craig glares at him. He puts the bottle on the floor. 

“Come on. We’ve only got ten minutes before Clyde passes out under the porch. We still have to find out where the pumpkins are.” Tweek stares at Craig and nods, still deep in thought. 

“O-okay.” He gets up and walks outside with Craig. It’s chilly so nobody’s really getting a buzz outside. Tweek sees his breath and he likes the feeling. He’s always liked cold weather. Winter’s got the lowest violent crime rate of all the seasons. Plus, it always smells so fresh and good. He doesn’t get cold too easily. Craig, however, in his ballerina dress, looks quite close to freezing. Tweek runs back in the house and grabs some cheap throw blanket. He tosses it over Craig’s shoulders. Craig furrows his brows. “You l-looked cold!” Tweek attempts a shrug but alas, it comes off spastic.

“Okay...thanks, buddy?” Craig says suspiciously. 

“Y-yeah. Of course.” 

“Tweek,” Craig begins, squinting his eyes shut. “Is there something you’re mad about?” 

“No! Christ, no!”

“Well, why are you being so weird?”

“I want to,  _ ngh _ , wipe the makeup off your face,” Tweek grumbles. “Can we do that?” 

“Uhm, this,” Craig gestures to everything he’s wearing. “Took four damn hours. No way.”

“You’re such a fucking drama queen!”

“I am not. I’ve been here, what, thirty minutes? The payoff hasn’t happened yet, is all.”

“What are you expecting, exactly?” Craig shrugs. 

“Don’t know. Just seems like a lot of work for nothing.” Tweek looks contemplative for a few minutes, opens his mouth a couple times and the action reminds Craig of a goldfish he used to know. “You look like a goldfish.” He blurts, because the silence is killing him slowly. 

“Craig,  _ ngh _ , jesus, okay?!” Tweek shouts, incomprehensible.

“What was that now? I couldn’t hear you because you were speaking meth head again.”

“You,  _ ngh,  _ you…you fucker.” Tweek settles, defeated. Craig raises an eyebrow. 

“It was just a joke,” Craig mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? What? No, you know, I don’t care about your meth jokes.”

“Oh. That’s good because I have a lot of them.”

“Y-yeah? Like what?”

“Well, I wasn’t really prepared for you to ask.” 

“ _ Oh _ . I see how it is.”

“Can you help  _ me  _ out, then? I’m kind of stumbling in the darkness here. Why are you acting weird?”

“I just,  _ ngh _ , wanna tell you to your face how...important you are to me! But you look like a goddamn Marilyn Monroe wannabe prostitute and I can’t tell her  _ that _ , okay?!” Craig lets out a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding onto. 

“You just did tell me, buddy,” Craig smiles but quickly erases it. “Wait, you think I look like a prostitute?”

“A high-end one, y-yeah.”

“Okay. That explains a lot.” 

“Yeah.”

“You mean a lot to me, too.” Craig cringes a little when he says it. But he’s already in a dress, so what better time to share his feelings?

“I know, man!” Craig laughs loudly and Tweek shakes his head. “N-no,  _ jesus _ . I’m not a n-narcissist or anything...I just know you wouldn’t d-do this for many people!”

“I wouldn’t do this for anyone else,” Craig scoffs. “Both Clyde and Kenny have made passes at me.” 

“What!” Tweek shouts. 

“Yeah, I know, right?”

“Don’t they know that Marilyn is taken?”

“I know, righ----wait, what?” Tweek rolls his eyes and takes Craig’s hand. He pulls him back in the house and walks too fast for Craig to keep up with. The blanket flies off somewhat dramatically and begins to draw the attention of the party goers. “Heels, man!” Craig shouts.

“S-sorry!” Tweek slows down a little, and they’ve reached where Tweek wants to be. He stands on the couch and aims to help Craig up. Craig looks at him oddly. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? How am I going to get up there with these?”

“Take them off! Don’t be a baby, Craig.” 

“I’m not a baby.” Craig grumbles, taking the heels off. “Why are you standing up there?”

“Ugh, dude, okay, fine! It’s a, a v-vantage point!” Craig furrows his brows at his outburst. They’re drawing a lot of attention to each other. Well, some attention. Mostly drunks eyeing them funny that don't have someone to make out with yet. Clyde is one of those drunks. He approaches Craig again and puts a hand on his back, little too close for comfort. 

“Hey, swee---” Clyde slurs and Tweek fumes, practically leaps on him. Tweek knocks Clyde over. His beer flies onto the floor and spills mostly everywhere. Craig jumps back, but still manages to get some beer on his legs. Tweek gets up and Clyde just sputters drunkenly on the floor, eyes looking half-awake. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Stop,  _ ngh _ , hitting on him! You’re so c-creepy, jeez!” 

“ _ Right _ , that’s Craig. Hi, Craig.” Clyde laughs and waves to Craig. Craig flips him off. “I’m a little drunk. He really looks like a dame,” Clyde takes a swig from his knocked over bottle. He swishes it. There’s not much left. “You guys finally banging now? That why you’re so jealous, Tweeker?” Clyde's way more focused on his dwindling alcohol supply than Tweek.

“ _ No _ ! I’m, we’re no----j-jesus, Clyde! D-don’t call me that, either!”

“It’s fine, man, I don’t care about that shit. I don’t want to sleep with Craig,” Clyde says, somewhat soberly. “He’s all yours, Tweeks. I don’t do guys.”

“J-jesus, we’re not a couple!” Craig, watching all of the futile bickering Tweek is doing with their drunk childhood friend, reflects on their situation. They do live together. They both have input on each other’s large purchases. They grocery shop together and debate over what food to buy. Well, Tweek shops and Craig sits in the cart. They make each other dinner, sometimes Craig even bakes Tweek a pie, just ‘cause he feels like it. They work together, they do basically everything together and Tweek is the only person Craig can stand to be around longer than three hours. Hell, he can't really stand _not_ being around him for longer than three hours. They dressed as Bonnie and Clyde for  _ three _ years in a row. Everytime Craig falls asleep on the couch, he wakes up with a soft blanket and a sticky note on his forehead that says ‘help me, i’ve been sleeping since 1999, what year is this?’. Craig loves Tweek’s stupid face, too, so there’s that in the mix. Craig frowns a little. 

“Aren’t we kind of a couple, though?” Tweek faces him, crazy-eyed and red-faced. 

“Ngh,  _ what _ !”

“I mean, if you think about it.” Craig mumbles. 

“I try not to!”

“Oh.” Craig says, feeling a lot more depressed than he realized he could. Tweek seems to pick up on this. 

“N-no, if I did, I wouldn’t know anything about how to escape from a coffin! I’d just think about you all the time and then I’d be in a coffin and I wouldn’t be able to breathe, dude! You’d all think I was dead! I try not to think about any of these situations!”

“What?” Craig asks. Tweek rolls his eyes. 

“Damn, Craig, y-you know, you’re a r-real dodo sometimes.” 

“Must be true, what they say about blondes.” Clyde adds from the floor. Tweek glares at him.

“I’m stupid?” Craig asks. Tweek nods. “How do you get out of a coffin?”

“You have to,  _ ngh _ , pray for a broke-ass family, for a cheap coffin. Or, if they loved you and, and they knew this that you wanted something cheap. The wood will sink in some place, hopefully. You put your shirt over your head and seal it like a bag so you don’t, don’t breathe in  _ dirt _ . You gotta,  _ ngh _ , kick the board ‘til it breaks and all the dirt is around you at the sides. You still have to leave room to wiggle yourself up through the b-breach. Then you stand up straight and you will probably reach the surface.”

“So, if I’m completely in love you, I should buy you a cheap coffin when you die? No autopsy or embalming, I'm assuming, yeah? Just a plain old, natural burial. Like in the olden days.”

“Yeah.” Tweek nods. He opens his eyes wide. “What?”

“So we’re going with pine? Flimsy pine? Maybe just plywood would work. I’m thinking a quarter inch? We can even tie a little string on your finger,” Craig grabs Tweek’s hand and points to his ring finger. “With a bell. I’ll take the graveyard shift and watch over you, buddy.”

“W-what?  _ What _ ?”

“Look who’s the _‘fucking parrot’_ now.” 

“What did you, did you?”

“Did I, did I what?” Craig mocks. 

“I think you broke Tweek. We gotta buy a new one.” Clyde laughs from the floor and Craig forgot he was there. Craig kicks at him. Clyde barely whimpers and rolls on his side. “Damn.” He says sleepily. Tweek stares. 

“Are you, are, are yo---”

“You are very annoying. I still love you, though.” Craig offers his arm. Tweek stutters. Craig rolls his eyes and takes Tweek’s arm, walking out of the house. 

“You,” Tweek is trying very hard not to hyperventilate. Craig notices this. “You  _ in _ love?”

“Sure, Caveman Joe.” Craig shakes his head. Tweek looks confused. Craig swings the bat around and hands it to Tweek. “ _ If it wasn’t for you, I’d have killed myself a long time ago _ .” Craig says, in a shockingly good Marilyn Monroe voice. 

“W-wait, you read the article, too?” Tweek asks, a little stunned. Craig opens the car door and sits him in it. 

“Yeah, and I  _ still _ don’t get you, man.” Craig looks at Tweek. “I hope our relationship isn’t  _ that _ fucked up.”

“H-huh?” Craig buckles Tweek up. 

“With the stalking and the insanity and the alcohol and the drugs and the beating. It gets to be intense. Don't know if I can handle that.”

“I know, that’s why I said it was sad.”

“So,” Craig says, somewhat nervously, leaning into Tweek’s face. “What are you doing for the rest of your life, dollface?” Tweek snorts and pulls Craig’s wig off. 

“You’re so fucking cheesy.”

“I’m classic, buddy, so watch it,” Craig reaches for the wig, but Tweek tosses it in the way back. “You drag me up and take me out on the town for forty minutes...now I’m supposed to abandon all of this? You made such a big deal, man.” Craig gestures to himself. “I’m kind of feeling it now.” Tweek groans. 

“Oh, God.”

“Not God, but I’m flattered you think so.” Tweek makes a pained face. 

“Craig.”

“Yes, dear?”

“Get in the goddamn Subaru.” Tweek says, fondly. 


End file.
